


Feeling & Falling

by IGuessIWriteStuffNow



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, F/F, Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, Girls in Love, Kath has trouble with feelings, Katherine's POV, POV Third Person, Pining, Sappho Poetry, copious amounts of violet symbolism, finally got around to writing newsbians!!!, hot take: this is better than 95 percent of my javid stuff, its gay, reference to truth about the moon, which is totally a davey song but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGuessIWriteStuffNow/pseuds/IGuessIWriteStuffNow
Summary: Katherine Plumber had known, for as long as she could remember, that she was a reporter. Facts were clay in her hands; she knew how to find them, manipulate them, and twist them into whatever story she needed to write. Facts were easy.But feelings? Those were something else entirely.The story of Katherine Plumber- of failing and starting relationships, of Sappho poetry and purple flowers, and of falling in love.





	

Katherine Plumber had known, for as long as she could remember, that she was a reporter. Facts were clay in her hands; she knew how to find them, and how to manipulate and twist them into whatever story she needed to write. Facts were easy. But feelings? Those were something else entirely.

Feelings were a deviation from what was simple and easy and clear-cut. They were an unknown variable that deviated from her infallible plan of facts and reports. And _those_ feelings- real, _romantic_ feelings- were more of a mystery to her than any of the others. They were swirls of emotion that she could not control, unable to tell that she was falling until it was too late.

The first person she ever fell for- thought that she fell for- was a pretty boy, rough around the edges, with a flirty nature and an ever-present smirk. Jack Kelly. He was courageous and kind and good to her, even as he teased and flirted and made grandiose confessions of feelings far too fast. _Love at first sight_ , he’d said. He drew pictures of her face and her smile and she tried to avoid him, because she didn’t understand the feelings she had. Until suddenly, she _did_ and she kissed him and he kissed her back!... but it wasn’t _right_. She went along and smiled and pretended she felt what he did, for the sake his sake and that of the strike. She was just misunderstanding feelings, she told herself. She repeated, over and over again, that she _did_ love him. She was just confused. She had to just be confused.

But she was a reporter, and facts stack up the way facts stack up. No, maybe she didn’t understand feelings completely, but she could hear the way he said Davey’s name, with exponentially more joy in his voice than when he said hers. She saw the way he looked at him, like he was everything good in the world, and the way Jack would hold tight to him as if he never wanted to let go. She saw the same emotions reciprocated in Davey. It was clear to her, then. She and Jack weren’t in love. Maybe they never had been. But that was okay. She ended whatever it was between the two of them, and hugged him, because she _did_ love him. Not the way he loved Davey, but he meant so much to her and she didn’t want to lose that.

And she didn’t. She still spent the majority of her time around him- him and Davey- and it was never awkward. Not even close. It was a happy, comfortable feeling- _so_ much better than being at home. Days passed quickly, and just as the end of her old relationship began fading from her mind, someone new entered her life who would start the cycle of feeling again.

Her name was Sarah, and the first thing Katherine ever thought of her was that there had never been a being closer to a goddess. 

Davey had invited Kath to his apartment to meet his parents and family. It was expected between friends growing gradually closer, and, she supposed, he wanted to win the favor of her as someone close to the boy he loved. His home was small but cozy- warm and inviting the way her father’s mansion never was. The aroma of soup cooking filtered through the rooms, dispersing into the air that held the friendliness of a family that shared happiness rather than distance. She shook the hands of Davey’s mother and father and ruffled the hair of his younger brother. She grinned at Jack, who had, of course, tagged along, as Davey called out for his sister. She folded her skirt beneath her as she sat, the hot steam flying up from the soup bowl into her face and heating her cheeks up to an even brighter pink. She lightly tapped the metal spoon against the ceramic bowl, filing the clanging sound it makes into her brain as an effect to use in her reports- appealing to the senses evoked empathy in readers, she'd found.

She immediately took notice when the seat next to her was taken, but didn’t look up until she heard a voice- a soft, feminine, beautiful voice- greet her hello. Her breath caught in her throat the moment she looked up. The silver spoon clattered down into the bowl, splashing small droplets of the soup out onto the tablecloth. Kath sputtered out an apology. The blush rose to her face as the laugh of the beautiful girl rang out, demanding all the space in the room, present in a way she had never heard before. The girl- Sarah, she told her- helped mop up the spoon with a napkin. Their fingers brushed as they cleaned, and the _feeling_ was there again. She ignored it as the conversation resumed- the words exchanged kind and welcoming. The soup sat on her tongue- salty, warm, comforting- as she tried to pay attention, knowing she should store away all the facts of the moment for later use. And yet, all she wanted to do stare at the girl next to her. She felt sick and dizzy and happy and she didn't know what it meant. Her brain provided Jack’s words he spoke to her, what felt like so long ago. _Love at first sight._ But that wasn’t real, and she knew it wasn’t. It didn’t fit with facts. She couldn’t fall in love with a girl simply because of a smile and a laugh and help cleaning up soup that _she_ spilled. 

She figured the best way to ascertain the solution to such a problem was to do something that came naturally to her: gathering more information. It was an excuse- she couldn't deny that- to explain why she found herself drifting into the Jacobs’ household more and more often. She would offer to help with dinner or putting out plates- something to make up for the amount of time and food she took from the family. And helping prepare meals meant standing next to Sarah and watching as small beads of sweat formed on her forehead after being exposed to the hot steam. Kath got to see her hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head, the loose strands gently curling around her face as white teeth bite down on a pink lip.

Katherine knew she needed to stop this.

She would tell the table of Jacobses stories of the reports she covered, giving them the facts while Jack “improved the truth”, as he was prone to do. His loud exclamations and hand gestures would earn an equal number of eye rolls and lovestruck smiles from Davey. Kath wished Sarah would smile at her like that. Whenever Sarah did smile, usually smaller and less smitten than her brother’s, it still made the other girl’s heart rise to her throat, and she wondered why she had ever thought she loved Jack. There was so little emotion there- yes, there was concern and caring, of course- but nothing like the plethora of _feelings_ that seemed to overflow every time one pretty brown-haired girl looked her way.

They talked a lot, as well. When Jack and Davey went off to do whatever it was they did together, Sarah would take Kath’s hand- leaving a pang of _something_ in her chest- and pull her up the fire escape stairs until they were on the roof, lit only by starlight. Sarah knew a lot about astronomy- she could ramble on and on about the moon, and could name nearly every constellation that hung up in the navy night sky. It was a beautiful sky, Kath would admit, but it failed to compare to the beauty of those same stars and moon reflected in Sarah’s deep brown eyes. 

Katherine had always been more interested in current events, what was happening on earth, in New York, right then. But hearing facts about the moon spoken in the songlike voice of Sarah Jacobs, she found that there was no news report on earth more interesting than the phases and Latin name of the celestial body.

She started going to the library more often, perusing over the shelves to find something that would her understand what she was feeling. After many visits filled with fruitless searching, she eventually happened across a collection of poetry by a woman called Sappho. The poems expressed a fierce passion for both men and women, and Katherine found herself enraptured by the words as they weaved themselves in patterns through her mind. She wondered if Sarah would find it odd if she recommended the poetry to her. Would it be worth it, if it would risk Sarah discovering what Katherine had been hiding? But Sarah had an appreciation for words than exceeded Katherine’s by miles. In the depths of her mind she could imagine the other girl’s eyes roaming the pages, inhaling when she read certain phrases, eyes widening as she realized what the words meant. She smiled at the mental image. Maybe she would. Not yet, but maybe.

Katherine got and lost many temporary journalism jobs as the months passed. She loved her writing, she loved her facts, she loved putting them together in ways that could sway an audience. But the more time she spent in the Jacobs’s apartment, or on their roof, looking at the beauty that was Sarah, the more she wished she had Jack’s skill with art. She wished she could capture Sarah’s smile in a single painting, or even in a skillfully crafted poem or narrative. She wanted to immortalize the most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth, in some way. She could never find the right words, and all her art came out flat. She always just sighed and made a move to try again.

She stole the poetry collection from the library. Not her most moral moment, but she had it planned out: say she lost it, pay the fine. Nothing she couldn’t handle. What she was doing with it would- hopefully- make the crime worthwhile.

Violets weren’t too difficult to procure, Katherine found. Three minutes in a flower shop lead her to purchase a bouquet of the flowers, and she scrutinized each one until she was sure she had found the most beautiful. The flower was pressed into the stolen book, on the page opposite of the poem where violets were described so beautifully. She wrote a note- her own handwriting, not typed; she was so unused to writing herself, but she wanted it to be personal- and folded it into the page. The message itself was simple enough: “ _On the roof -Katherine_ ". She trusted Sarah to know enough of emotions and figure out what she meant.

The poem book handed off to Davey with instructions on whom to give it to, the object of her affections cleverly avoided on her visit to her home, and the stairs to the rooftop climbed, Katherine waited. The moon that had Sarah so enamored shone down on her, the twinkling stars around it seemed to mock her for putting her feelings out in the open. She doubted Sarah would spread dangerous rumors about her- what with her own brother having the same condition of falling for the same gender. But Sarah- perfect, beautiful Sarah, who deserved so much from the world that she had been denied, who deserved a good husband, and a nice home, and a place to raise children- couldn’t possibly return the sentiments Katherine had expressed to her, could she?

The clank of feet on metal resonated behind her, and she turned, her breath catching as she saw Sarah standing on the opposite side of the roof. Kath stood, not advancing herself. The graceful apparition that was Sarah seemed to float to her, skirt billowing in the wind. Her advancement was slow and sure, each agonizingly slow step bringing her closer until she was inches from Kath. There were streaks of tears in shining lines across Sarah’s face. The book was hugged to her chest, gripped so that her knuckles were white. “Katherine, did you mean-” The words cut through the tension, a pickaxe taken to the ice that had frozen Kath in place. 

“Yes.” The words were murmured in reply, and she rests a hand on Sarah’s hip, fingertips lightly grasping the brown fabric of her skirt. Sarah’s hand cupped her face, leaving feather-like touches over her cheekbone. They were so close but the fear was _still_ there. Kath stopped herself from rushing into press their lips together, unlike her first kiss with Jack. She was no longer so naive, or impatient. She was not guessing on feelings. She was sure this time, and there was so much at stake. Her fingers ran through the silk strands of Sarah’s hair, listening to the way her breathing fluctuated. And then, both so anticipated and suddenly, Sarah’s lips were on hers.

It wasn’t rushed, like it was with Jack. Sarah was kissing her slowly, softly, like they have all the time in the world. And the feeling- the one Katherine has been nursing and tending to since she met Sarah- it was there in full force. It didn’t disappear or fade into nothingness, not like with Jack. It was too strong and too _there_. She couldn’t have named it, when she first felt it. In retrospect, it was maybe attraction. Not _love at first sight_ , or any other delusion of the like. As the months passed, it grew and it shifted and changed, all leading up to the moment her lips touched Sarah’s.

And once Sarah pulled away, and whispered three words against her lips, she knew its name.

Katherine Plumber was a reporter. She relied on facts.

Fact number one: She loved Sarah Jacobs.

Fact number two: Sarah Jacobs loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> I love my girls *sobs*  
> But yeah I thought this world needed a bit more newsbians, so I tried. This is a weird writing style I get into sometimes- which is weird, cause I love dialogue, but sometimes I'm like nah lets write like THIS  
> And yeah women didn't actually start giving each other violets as a show of passion until like the 1910s but thats a fact I'm choosing to ignore  
> Also fun fact I started writing this for my writing class and read the beginning out loud (with changed names just in case anyone had ever seen newsies). Its always fun to see my class of mostly-heterosexuals react to my very gay writing  
> This note is too long. Comments are life and I hope you all have a great day


End file.
